The Sacred Luna

Chapter 16

(Sanya's POV)

Zaiden leans forward slightly. "How do you know if you're doing it right?"

"The smell changes. Gets stronger but cleaner." I hold the mortar toward him. "Here. Notice how it's sharp but not bitter?"

He inhales carefully, then nods. "I smell it. Like... winter?"

"Exactly." I'm surprised he caught it. "Most people just say it smells like plants. But silver sage specifically has that cold quality. Clean. Precise."

"Like you," he says.

I look up sharply. "What?"

"The way you describe it. Clean. Precise. That's how you are. When you're not reorganizing my study or challenging visiting Alphas." His lips quirk slightly. "You have this other side. Methodical. Careful. It only comes out when you're working with herbs."

I don't know what to do with that observation, so I move on to the nightshade.

"This is trickier," I say, carefully separating the purple flowers from the stems. "Nightshade is toxic if used incorrectly. But in the right doses, it's one of the most effective pain relievers available."

"How do you know the right dose?"

"Practice. Training. Trial and error." I smile slightly. "Mostly error, in the beginning. I made myself sick more times than I can count, trying to figure out proper ratios."

"You tested it on yourself?" He sounds horrified.

"Who else would I test it on? I wasn't going to poison random customers." I shrug. "Besides, that's how you learn. What your body can tolerate. What combinations work. What measurements matter."

"That's insane."

"That's dedication." I carefully measure out nightshade petals—exactly three, no more, no less. "Healing isn't about following recipes. It's about understanding how things work together. How plants interact. How bodies respond. You can't learn that from books."

"You could have died."

"I could have stayed ignorant." I add the petals to my mixture. "I chose knowledge."

Zaiden is quiet for a moment, watching me work. "Is that why you went into the forest today? For knowledge?"

"For ingredients. Can't make remedies without raw materials." I start grinding again, blending the three components into a cohesive mixture. "The pack healers have standard supplies, but they don't stock what I need."

"Why not? What's different about your remedies?"

Because they're not really remedies. They're suppressants designed to hide a divine aura from everyone including you.

"They're personal," I say instead. "Specific to my needs. The healers focus on common ailments—battle injuries, illnesses, broken bones. They don't worry about chronic headaches or anxiety or the kind of stress that comes from being watched constantly."

"Is that what you suffer from? Chronic headaches?"

"Among other things." I focus on my grinding, not meeting his eyes. "Being Luna is... intense. All those expectations. All that scrutiny. All those people waiting for me to fail."

"Not everyone wants you to fail."

"Name three people who actually want me to succeed."

He's quiet.

"Exactly," I say. "I'm the replacement bride. The nobody from the Gray Zone. The inappropriate Luna who keeps embarrassing the council. Best case scenario, people tolerate me. Worst case, they're actively hoping I'll give up and leave."

"I don't want you to leave."

The admission is so quiet I almost miss it.

I look up. Zaiden is watching me with an intensity that makes my hands falter. Makes my suppressant magic flutter weakly.

"You don't?" I whisper.

"No." He reaches across the table, his finger tracing the pile of ground herbs. "Two weeks ago, I would have. Would have been relieved if you'd run. Would have told myself it was for the best."

"And now?"

"Now I spent four hours terrified that you had." His eyes meet mine. "Now I'm sitting in a kitchen at midnight watching you grind herbs and thinking this is the most honest conversation we've had. Now I'm—" He stops. Pulls his hand back. "Now I don't know what I want. Except that I don't want you to leave."

The silence that follows is heavy with things unsaid.

I return to my work, adding a drop of alcohol to bind the mixture. My hands shake slightly, making the drop turn into two.

"Careful," Zaiden says. "You said measurements matter."

"They do." I curse softly, reaching for more silver sage to balance the extra liquid. "Ratios have to be exact. Too much alcohol and it won't absorb properly. Too little and it won't preserve."

"How did you learn all this?"

"My mother." The words slip out before I can stop them. "She was a healer. Self-taught, like me. She used to forage in the woods near the Gray Zone, bringing back plants no one else recognized."

"Used to?"

"She died when I was sixteen." I focus on measuring out more sage, keeping my voice level. "Fever. Ironically, the one thing she couldn't cure was the thing that killed her."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. She taught me everything important before she died. How to identify plants. How to prepare remedies. How to survive on my own." I mix the additional sage into the preparation, watching the consistency change. "She also taught me that being useful is more important than being visible. That if you can heal people, they'll overlook almost anything else about you."

"Is that what you're doing? Trying to be useful enough that we overlook you?"

The question cuts too close to truth.

"Maybe," I admit. "Is it working?"

"No." But there's no judgment in his voice. "You're too visible now. Too Luna. Too... you. There's no overlooking that."

I transfer the finished mixture to a small glass vial, sealing it carefully. "Is that a problem?"

"I don't know." He watches me label the vial with precise handwriting. "Everything about you is a problem. You break every rule. Challenge every expectation. Reorganize my life without permission. And somehow—" He pauses. "Somehow you make it all make sense."

I look up from my labeling. "What do you mean?"

"The study. The council meeting. Tonight." He gestures at the herbs scattered across the table. "You see what's wrong and you fix it. Not because someone told you to. Not because it's your duty. You just... see problems and solve them."

"That's not special. That's just paying attention."

"Most people don't pay attention. They follow the existing system. Accept how things are. You question everything." His eyes meet mine, and there's something warm in them. Something I haven't seen before. "It's terrifying. And fascinating. And I can't stop watching to see what you'll destroy next."

"Destroy?" I echo.

"In the best way." A slight smile tugs at his lips. "You destroyed my perfect study organization. Destroyed my assumption that council elders were trustworthy. Destroyed my certainty that quiet Lunas are better than bold ones. You're systematically destroying everything I thought I knew about how things should work."

"Should I apologize?"

"God, no." The smile becomes more genuine. "Don't ever apologize for seeing clearly. Even when it's inconvenient."

I don't know what to say to that, so I start preparing a second batch. Zaiden watches in silence as I measure and grind and mix. There's something peaceful about it—working with my hands while he observes. No arguing. No tension. Just the rhythm of pestle against mortar and the quiet breathing of two people sharing space.